


Fight or Flight

by LoxleyAndBagell



Category: Free!
Genre: I wrote this in a 48 hour period during which I did not sleep much at all, M/M, Mention of dysphoria, Trans Male Character, mentions of transphobia, precious little knowledge of how the swim season in the japanese high school system actually works, rin is really bad at the whole Feelings thing, trans nitori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoxleyAndBagell/pseuds/LoxleyAndBagell
Summary: Half a year with Nitori as a roommate.





	

The first time they met, Nitori was swimming with the girls’ team who called him “Ichiko-chan.” The few times Rin saw him out of swim gear, he had the blunt bob that most girls their year wore to match the uniform skirt. Even Rin knew him as “Ichiko-chan.”

Then he went away and came back, all the while not sparing a thought for the little girl, and when he came back he found himself being reintroduced. 

It turned out that not too many people from their grade school went to Samezuka. In Rin’s second year, it turned out that Nitori did.

Rin hadn’t gone to too many middle-school meets, but Seijuro had, and was the one to introduce Rin at Samezuka’s try-outs. 

It hadn’t been necessary; Rin only had to see the blunt cut under Nitori’s cap to blink in recognition. Seijuro only had to get as far as, “This is Nitori Aiichirou” before Rin said “We’ve met,” and then Nitori looked little afraid, and that was that. 

 

At the start of Rin’s second year, they drew the raffle to see who they’d live with next year, and Rin drew Nitori’s name. 

He figured it wasn’t a bad way to go, and that what was going on in his head was satisfaction that Nitori wouldn’t have to live with a stranger and come out to him before he was ready. Besides, if it was awful, they’d part ways at the end of the first semester and find other people to live with. By that point, Nitori would likely have found other people to come out to who would be good.

It was stupid to wonder about what it would be to live with Nitori. It would be just like living with one of the guys, what was he expecting? Idiot. 

Rin spent most of that month not thinking much of it; there were lots of boys and girls in Australia who had spent the first years of their life being seen as something wrong. He supposed he was glad Nitori was able to access the resources that would help him feel more comfortable, knowing that there were too many kids who couldn’t. And, again, he supposed that was that. 

 

So, a month living with Nitori Aiichirou meant these things:

-A defined line on the floor between Order and Chaos

-Homework raining from the upper bunk

-Homework falling from Nitori’s desk like snow

-“I’m not afraid of order, I know exactly where everything is.”

-“Matsuoka-senpai”

-Knowledge that the world will not end in fire or water, but scientific illustrations of plants. Why this, god. 

 

On an Away meet, he sat in front of Nitori and Seijuro (the Captain always did have a soft-spot for “the little ones”), and fumbled with his i-pod (all the better to have a nap and avoid listening to Seijuro’s small-talk). 

He had one earbud in when Seijuro lightly asked, “So, your family lives in the next school district over? Why not go to Iwatobi? Was swimming that important?”

He heard Nitori stutter before affirming. Then the conversation was lost in favor of terrible pop music. 

 

Nitori was good at what he did, and what was more, he enjoyed doing it. He would swim for himself, and instead of doing his laps he preferred to spend his free time lazily diving underwater before coming up again. In spite of this, it seemed he really had made swimming a priority when he switched districts. Rin couldn’t have said why that was such a relief.

 

Two months meant:

\- “Matsuoka-senpai”  
\- Coming up with theses-length explanations of poetic devices because how do you get this far in life and still not get the differences between metaphors and similes?  
\- Still not knowing if the wide-eyed attention paid to listening to every Australia story (real or imagined) is sincere or fucking around  
\- “Matsuoka-senpai”  
\- Knowing exactly which drawer is The Residence of Sin  
\- Reassuring Nitori that the laughter isn’t at the… “Sin,” nope, no, it’s at the—you get your porn in magazine format? You know this isn’t the eighties, right?  
\- Taking Nitori under your arm in public and gesture broadly with every mention of “The Internet” which is a joke just between the two of you  
\- Feeling a little proud that there are jokes between just the two of you  
\- Fucking “Matsuoka-senpai”

 

 

Nitori’s first meet was something of a fiasco. Two days before the event he found Nitori’s gym bag in the locker room and Nitori sitting at the bottom of the pool.

He dove down to join him, and before Nitori could do something stupid like waving, Rin indicated they go upwards. He gave Nitori a minute to bob to the poolside and puff from his inhaler before grilling him. He was capable of being generous. 

“Care to share what that pointless exercise was all about?” he asked, drily as he knew. 

Nitori didn’t look at him. “I was trying to calm down, senpai. I hope you weren’t worried.”

Rin rolled his eyes. “Brilliant idea. The classic ‘drown-the-nerves-away’ technique. Is there anything more therapeutic than that? Especially for an asthmatic.”

Nitori didn’t bite back. 

Rin sighed. If he didn’t do something before sending Nitori over to Seijuro, the Captain would have his hide. He swam over to Nitori, rested his arms on the concrete beside him, and asked, “What’s got you so worried?”

Nitori still looked winded, but not as bad as before. He was still red, but at least it wasn’t due to short breath. 

“Matsuoka-senpai, is it really obvious that I’m…” he trailed off and made a vague gesture.

Rin had a vague idea of what he was talking about, but didn’t want to assume. Or let this turn into a serious heart-to-heart. So he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Asthmatic? Short? Really bad at the whole ‘Self-Preservation’ thing?”

“Trans,” was Nitori’s quick, whispered answer. 

Well, Rin wasn’t getting out of that heart-to-heart after all. Damn.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I mean, it seriously doesn’t matter to these guys. It shouldn’t, anyway. If it does, Seijuro would end them, but that’s not likely.”

Nitori was quiet at that, and Rin was about to congratulate himself on a job well-done, but then Nitori ran a hand over his face and said in a shaky voice, “Matsuoka-senpai, that is not what I asked.”

Rin huffed. “What does it matter? You’re a guy, you swim the men’s team, and that—“

“It matters,” said Nitori, “because I have spent long enough being told what a shame it was that I ‘gave up’ being such a ‘pretty girl,’ and every time I’ve come out to someone, eight cases out of ten I get some variation of ‘I could kind of tell because there’s something off about your face and it’s so obvious you’re really a girl,’ and, and we can’t all get by not worrying about what people think because we’re bigger and stronger than the rest, because I have to think about being safe and then being happy in my skin and then swimming in that order and I don’t want the first two to be an issue here, and god damn it,” and then he was taking another puff of his inhaler.

Rin was a little stunned. ‘God damn’ was right.

When Nitori put the inhaler down again, he said, quieter than before, “Hell, you knew.”

Rin almost let go of the concrete. “What the fuck, you’re upset that I recognized you?”

Nitori looked too tired to argue. Good. Rin had a lot to say about this.

“Nitori, I wasn’t—what the fuck? All that was—I was just recognizing you, I wasn’t trying to, I don’t know, lord it over you or whatever. You’re a guy, and that’s the end of the matter. I had enough trans friends in Australia to know what it is to have a little respect for people’s identities.”

That seemed to surprise Nitori. “You did?”

“Uh, yeah. Did you think I just befriended the kangaroos and giant spiders and called it good?”

Nitori looked a little heartened, then managed a vague little, “Well…”

Rin splashed him. “Little jerk.” Then, “Does Seijuro know? I mean, he is the Captain, and I know he’s a good guy. I don’t know if you’ve got enough support on the team, or if you want—“

“He knows,” Nitori interrupted. ”It’s on my health form. Coach knows, too. It’s right there with the asthma business. Strictly confidential. Unless I want to come out to them, formally. If they haven’t guessed.”

Rin hummed. “I don’t know about that. Want my advice, if you decide to come out?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t be formal about it.” 

Nitori hummed in acknowledgement. Then, he giggled. “Holy shit, I probably won’t do this, but it’d be awesome if I, like, pulled together a big formal meeting, then did the whole, ‘I’ve brought you here today to make a formal announcement, I think you’ve known for some time, but I want to be honest. Guys, I have asthma.’”

Rin collapsed, laughing. “That’d be good. That. That would be very appreciated. Wow.”

Rin let Nitori babble a little longer before he bullied him out of the cold water. 

 

 

Three months mean:

-The first plea to be anything other than “Matsuoka-senpai”

-Please. It makes you feel so old. 

-You’re too young and beautiful to be feeling old.

-The realization that the scientific illustrations are actually Nitori’s work. What on god’s green earth.

-Getting sick with a twenty-four hour bug that’s been going around, and subsequently being afraid of Nitori. The little fuck doesn’t know how to quit, and would duct-tape you down if he could.

-Learning that the only thing that makes you laugh in the height of illness is Nitori’s solemn proclamation that “If you’re not drinking something, it’s because you’re pissing it out.” 

-The determination that this, too, will be a joke for just the two of you.

-“Matsuoka-senpai”

-The decision that this “Matsuoka-senpai” must be found and killed.

 

Two days later, Nitori was hunched over his homework with a pencil between his teeth and a pencil behind his ear while he typed away. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and his nose twitched unconsciously. He looked ridiculous.

It felt like the floor was dropping under Rin’s feet.

Nitori noticed Rin standing there, bag dropped at his feet, gawping, and his eyes went wide with concern. “Matsuoka-senpai? What’s wrong?”

Rin flinched. “You calling me that, and the nice impression of an idiot you were making just now.”

Nitori frowned. “What?”

Rin made a beeline for his bunk, dragging his bag and not looking at his roommate. “You’re sprouting pencils.”

“What do y—oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

Rin settled against his pillow, biting down his smile and grateful to hide his blush as Nitori laughed at the discovery. 

 

In his heart of hearts, for all his pride, Rin is a logical soul. He knows that if you like someone and want them to like you back, you should be nice to them. Alternatively, if you like someone and you don’t ever want them to know, you should be an ass, but that would be stupid because why would you want someone you like to hate you unless you live in a melodramatic and tragic anime? 

Then, if you want to keep things as they are, you just. Don’t change.

Well, Rin also knows that liking someone is a vulnerable place to be. He knows that being vulnerable is dangerous, and the only way to get by anywhere is to be the biggest, meanest, weirdest motherfucker in the valley of evil. 

Ergo, he is trapped in a weird-ass limbo in regard of how to carry on in regard to the sudden Awareness Of Feelings ™. 

Rather than confront these feelings, he goes to the pool. He goes to the pool a lot, unless Nitori is there. Then he goes to the gym. 

Okay, he went to the gym until he saw Nitori on the treadmill with his earbuds in and every once in a while punch the air in tune to some beat Rin couldn’t hear, his shirt dripping with sweat and leg muscles pumping and oh god it was time to back away slowly and get back in that chilly pool, boy.

He learned to go to the library to do his homework, and therefore got to spend even more time with Seijuro. This meant he often fell asleep as soon as he returned to the dorm. 

It would go away soon, he was sure; he needed distance to cool down. He was experiencing an attachment as a result of so much proximity. Maybe he hadn’t felt in such a way with his last roommate, but things changed. He’d get over it.

 

He would have been better off not being a jerk to Nitori in his most frustrated moments. 

He knew better. He knew that the desk wasn’t that big an issue and it wasn’t his business. He really liked the illustrations, and when they fell on the floor by his bed he’d admire them before putting them back on the chair or Nitori’s bunk. And he really did think Nitori was a great swimmer. He knew that Nitori was beating himself up over hitting some sort of wall, and that he thought he was slipping backwards in his progress. You don’t live with someone for four months and not realize these things.

So he didn’t really need to say at the end of practice when Nitori was horrified at his results, “I don’t know what to tell you, except I know you’re not skipping practice to clean your fucking desk.” 

He really didn’t need to say that. He should not have said that. 

He should have stopped there, should have let Nitori talk himself through it when he started with, “I swear to god, I am working, I don’t know why I’m—“

“Cut the bullshit,” Rin had snapped. “It’s not my fault you’re fucking up, and it’s not my job to feel sorry for you. Just decide if you’re going to Iwatobi before the semester ends.”

Then he left, because that was the only natural and just conclusion that could have come from that.

It was a Saturday, but he went to the library anyway because hiding was good. Hiding was also natural and just after something like that.

He usurped the silent floor of the library to call Gou.

“Gou, you’re a red-blooded heterosexual woman,” he opened with. “What do you do after you—“ and he had to stop there because he felt like throwing up.

“That is the weirdest sentence to start crying in the middle of,” she said. “Wanna try that again?”

“I’m not crying,” he sniffed. Sniffled. 

God damn it. 

Gou waited for him to find the air to talk, and he related as concisely as he could: He had said something really uncalled for and untrue to someone he cared about, and it was never gonna go anywhere, but he still wanted them to not hate him, at least.

“Have you considered apologizing?”

“Not like this. I don’t even know where to begin to apologize.”

She hummed approvingly. “That’s good. I think that’s where you begin. And then, what you told me—you know it was the wrong thing to say and you know you didn’t mean it, then you say why you said it anyway, and you regret acting that way.”

He laughed a little. “I thought I was opening with the fact that I didn’t know where to begin to apologize.”

“You’ll get over it. Anything else you need to cover?”

He wasn’t quite ready to go yet. “What’s the gossip on Haru these days?”

“Haha, you bitch.”

Then Seijuro appeared and knocked on the nearest book-case. 

Rin felt sick again. “Actually, I’ll need a rain-check on that.”

“That’s cool. Love you.”

“That’s gross. Love you too.”

Seijruo sat in front of him, waiting for Rin to hang up. 

“Well,” said his friend. “I was ready to read you the riot act.”

Rin sighed, rubbing his temples. “How much of that did you hear?”

“You not knowing where to begin to apologize. I’m assuming it’s about Nitori?”

Rin hid behind his hands and nodded. “How pissed is he at me?”

Seijuro didn’t answer him right away. “You’ll be glad to know he isn’t pissed.”

“What?”

“Nope.” But it didn’t sound like he was delivering good news. “You know, he takes everything you say about his performance as gospel. Where he’s concerned, you didn’t say shit about your friend; he’s disappointed you completely and he’s never going anywhere in life and maybe you’ll kill him.”

Well, there went Rin’s appetite for the next ten years. “Holy god, no.”

Seijuro’s brow furrowed. “Dude. Dude, hey. It’s a figure of speech.”

Rin shook his head, seeing grey. “Nope. No. It’s not. You know it’s not. You know him, so you know it’s not.”

Seijuro nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I wasn’t sure if he’d told you. But that would be stupid, seeing how you live together. Okay.”

Rin was getting lost—Nitori’s door getting plastered with death threats, like Tatiana’s. Nitori coming back with a split lip and black eye like Andi had, but not letting Rin know who was responsible. Nitori regretting ever doing right by himself and not letting anyone in and thinking that being honest was the height of cruelty to the world, and… and…

“Rin. Hey, Rin.”

“I don’t want him dead,” Rin managed. Why were words so hard? What the fuck? “I don’t—“

“Then you’d better—“

Rin was already standing up. “Where is he?”

Seijuro regarded him seriously, then nodded. “Your room.”

Rin was off.

 

It wasn’t until he reached the door and knocked heavily that Rin realized he didn’t know what to say. 

There was what Gou had told him to say, which was probably the rightest course of action. Sosuke had encouraged it. But there was no way to work “Please don’t go because the world would be so much colder and my life would lose so much” into that scripted spiel. At least not as far as Rin could tell at the moment.

When Nitori opened the door, his face had just been washed and he was already in his pajamas and he froze stiff at the sight of Rin.

The formal address was already on his lips, and then Rin’s lizard brain kicked into action because that was so not about to happen, and god only knew what was going to come out of Rin’s mouth at this rate.

What came out was an “I like you so much,” and then a sob, and that’s it, good night folks, all bets are off.

Nitori wasn’t saying anything. Nitori looked like he’d turned to stone, and he wasn’t saying anything, and Rin was still crying, and oh god, this wasn’t what Rin was supposed to say, and now Nitori was going to move out. 

Nitori was going to move out. Rin was going to be all alone, and he wasn’t saying the right thing, and he had to hurry, because if he didn’t, he’d never even have the sliver of a chance at forgiveness.

Where was he supposed to start? 

Well, he’d dropped one bomb apropos of nothing, and there was nothing to soften the blow. Did context need to happen? 

Well, context couldn’t make things worse.

“You’re so good at what you do. You work so hard. I don’t know why I ever—fuck, I was about to lie. I know why I said that shit. It’s obvious: I’m a self-absorbed idiot who doesn’t know how to live with the past, and I may not ever know, Nitori. But you believe in me and make me feel like I can go where I want to go, and you're so smart and nice and I just—I like you so much.”

He had forgotten to emphasize just how nice Nitori was. Case in point: being quiet while Rin cried his eyes out in the fucking hallway.

“Fuck,” he managed, calming down a little. “Fuck. Okay.” 

Well, now he had to be a grown-up. That sucked.

He wiped his face off as he spoke, as if that would help him do a better impression of someone who had a good hold of their feelings. “If you want to move out at the end of the semester, that makes perfect sense. You don’t need to deal with this.”

That was the truth. It probably wasn’t a good third of what he was meant to say, but there it was. Besides, he couldn’t think of what was supposed to come next, anyways. Probably the door closing in his face.

He could spend time in Seijuro’s room. There was room on the floor. His roommate wouldn’t mind. It’d be fine. It’d work out.

Nitori didn’t close the door on his face.

Instead, Rin was being pulled into the room by his sleeve. The door closed behind him with a barely audible click, and then Nitori was holding him. 

The crown of Nitori’s head was just by Rin’s cheek, and if he tilted his head he could kiss Nitori’s temple, and if Nitori just tilted his head just so his chin would sit on Rin’s shoulder. 

They would fit so good together.

“I don’t know what this is,” Rin admitted. 

Nitori squeezed a little tighter. “You don’t?”

“Nope.”

Nitori shook a little, laughing quietly. “This is me trying to let you know the feeling’s mutual.”

“Oh thank god,” Rin exhaled, his own arms flying around Nitori’s waist.

**Author's Note:**

> Woooo, thanks for reading this! I've never written for this fandom before, and it probably shows, but if there's one thing I love, it's projecting my own insecurities about gender and romance onto fictional characters.


End file.
